


The Forgotten War

by flamewing80



Series: The Keeper of Secrets [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Forgotten Ones, M/M, War, creators, elven pantheon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:00:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28836714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamewing80/pseuds/flamewing80
Summary: Years before the founding of Arlathan and the dawn of Elvhenan, every day is a struggle to survive in a world controlled by the Forgotten Ones. One family refused to give in and escaped the slavery of the Forgotten, known to them as the Shadow Ones, to incite a rebellion and build a new world controlled by the Elvhen.Follow the story of a young Dirthamen and see how he becomes the elf we know in my other Dragon Age works.
Series: The Keeper of Secrets [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114415
Kudos: 2





	The Forgotten War

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Dragon Age is owned by Bioware and EA games 
> 
> Hello everyone and welcome a prequel to Inquisitor’s Mask I’ve had planned for sometime now. We are finally getting to see Dirthamen’s early life and how became forged into the character we all know and love in _Inquisitor’s Mask_ and _Blood of the People_.

Darkness.

A deep, everlasting darkness clung to the edge of the sky. The air was heavy with the scent of dust and smoke. The embers of the night’s fire were all which remained. The night silent save for a soft _click, click-click, click_ which tapped in time to the softness of bare feet against the freezing stone floor.

Again.

Dirth lunged forward.

The stone dagger flashed in the dim ember light.

Sparks lit the small space as the knife struck the wall.

Again.

He leapt once more.

His arm fought against the movement, weight with the length of the night.

Not enough.

Again.

Sparks flashed.

Faster.

Dirth gritted his teeth and ache settled in his jaw.

The knife flew from his tired hand to his other.

 _Wimp, weakling_. The taunts of his sister and father echoed through his ears. Worthless, that was how his family viewed. He wasn’t worthless.

Sparks danced as the blade struck the wall again and again. Over and over, ringing in an almost fierce song.

Fire coursed through his body. Each moved strained.

_Fenedhis, have I reached my limit already?_

Dirth staggered.

The dust filled air filled his lungs with each fast breath he took. His forehead pressed against the rough stone.

It was his limit.

Fenedhis!

The only bright side was he had lasted longer than the night before.

He lifted the knife. It trembled even as he tried to hold the blade steady. The knife blurred.

Fenedhis!

_At this rate, I’ll never be of use._

_No_ – Dirth shook his head – _I have to keep going. I can’t—I won’t give up so easily._

He straightened, hefting the blade.

The tip swayed, impossible to strike straight.

Fenedhis.

He had to do this. He had to go beyond his limit, or he would never be of use to his family; to Falon.

“Dirth?”

Dirth jumped. The knife shooshed as it went behind his back. “Falon,” he stuttered.

“What are you doing up so late?” Falon yawned as he stepped further into the space. “Fenedhis, it’s freezing out here. He rubbed his bare arm and looked to where the space opened out to look out across the world. They were in a cave. This one room was covered just enough to never give away their location to anyone that might be watching.

“Nothing,” Dirth mumbled, his gaze flickering away from his twin to the ground. “I just couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Falon shrugged. “Uncle is keeping everyone’s dreams safe so it couldn’t be a nightmare, right?”

Dirth shifted, heart flickering. Nightmare? A bad dream, but dreams where something that he had never—

“Come on, we had best get back to sleep. I can’t sleep without your warmth and I need my sleep. Can’t maintain this beautiful face without it.” Falon grinned, his golden-yellow eyes glittering.

“I’ll,” – Dirth swallowed – “I’ll meet you there. Give me a moment, brother.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Falon folded his arms across his bare chest. His muscles rippled visible even in the darkness of night.

 _I’ll never be like him._ Dirth forced his gaze to remain locked on Falon. _I’ll never be strong_.

“All right,” Dirth mumbled.

“Hmm?” Falon cocked his head. “Can’t look away from me, can you? I know, I’m a perfect specimen.” 

“I,” Dirth swallowed.

“It doesn’t need to be said. I know I am.”

It was just Falon being Falon. Still – pain throbbed deep in Dirth’s chest. It was as if his twin knew Dirth longed to be as strong as him. As magically gifted as him. If he was more like Falon, he could be of use to his family.

“Come on.” Falon walked over to Dirth. The weight of his warm hand fell over Dirth’s shoulder. “Let’s go back to bed.”

Dirth nodded.

He followed his brother into the next room where the catch was normally skinned. Dirth glanced at his brother to see Falon’s back was now to him. He slipped the skinning knife back into its proper place.

Tomorrow night he could continue with his practice. It was for the best Falon didn’t know what Dirth did every night. It would only make Falon worry. Granted, this was the first time Falon had ever noticed Dirth sneak out.

Dirth stepped carefully around their Uncle who slept at the entrance of the shared room. His and Falon’s sleeping space were the next closest to the entrance.

Dirth settled onto the thin furs he’d been given. Falon’s own sleeping place held a new fur from their dinner. His blanket was also thicker, less worn. He’d tried giving them to Dirth but the last time he had done so Falon had been in deep trouble from their mother. She’d been livid Falon had tried to give Dirth the furs.

“I would rather you have them,” Falon muttered as he laid down. He scowled at the thin, warn fur Dirth pulled over himself. “Are you cold?” he asked, breath warm against Dirth’s ear.

“Fine,” Dirth lied.

Falon couldn’t be caught again. Dirth wasn’t worth it.

Dirth turned his back to his brother.

Family was important. Extremely important. Without his, Dirth would have been dead long before now. His twin, Uncle, and one of his younger sisters all helped him. Warmth spread from his chest.

Yes, without family, he wouldn’t have survived at all.

Dirth blinked, his gaze locked on the dark figure of his uncle, sleeping so all of them would have dreams guarded from the Shadow Ones. He stood as the long guard at night. Always there, always protecting all of them. A solitude wolf standing fast against any threat.

 _I wonder what it is like to dream_.

Darkness overtook Dirth.

Perhaps the darkness which shrouded Dirth at night was a dream.

“You should move further in,” a voice trickled to Dirth.

“I’m fine where I sleep, mother,” Falon stated.

The furs beside Dirth shifted.

“No, you’re not, young man.”

“Then let Dirth move further in as well.”

Dirth kept his eyes shut not wanting either to know he was awake. There was a light he could just make out from behind his eyelids.

“What harm would it do to let Dirth move further in, Mythal?” a calm voice asked.

Oh, no, Uncle had joined the argument. He must have woken early for once.

“Yes, exactly!”

“Enough, Falon,” their mother snapped. “You know the reasons he’s not supposed to, Solas,” an edge reverberated through Mythal’s voice. “He’s not to move.”

“Mythal,” Solas started.

“It’s final, Solas.” The soft sound of her leathers shifting came. “Falon, move your furs just beyond your father and I.”

“No!” Falon snapped. “If Dirth is to be just tossed aside then I stand with him.”

“You will move your sleeping furs. That’s final, young man!” The sound of Mythal moving off followed her words.

“Abyss’s taint,” Falon spat. “Even after she and father took Dirth away to do who knows what she’s still ready to throw him away.”

Dirth kept his arm straight, even as his fingers twitched as if to grip his shirt. A wound sliced down from his right shoulder to his left hip. A wound caused by his father and niece experimenting on him.

“Dirth, I know you’re awake,” Solas stated.

“I’m sorry.” Dirth opened his eyes.

“For what?” Solas cocked an eyebrow.

“For the trouble—”

“Don’t!” Falon growled. “If anyone should apologize it’s father and mother. They’re treating you as disposable when you’re not.”

“But,” Dirth started as he moved onto his knees, legs tucked under him. His gaze locked on his uncle’s and brother’s feet.

 _I am disposable_. What use was he if he couldn’t fight? If he couldn’t hunt the right way? Sure he had caught food before. It had been done through a series of traps his father had called more than worthless. If Dirth couldn’t prove himself a hunter able to bring down a ram with bow or magic then he would never qualify to reproduce.

Not that was anyone to take as a mate.

Most of their people were still trapped as slaves to the Shadow Ones. 

“Don’t think about it, brother.”

“You have you’re worth, Dirth,” Solas informed him. “You have caught more than your fair share of the food.”

Dirth looked up at his uncle.

Solas’s hand had wrapped around the broken lower jaw of a wolf Dirth had found years ago and treated so it wouldn’t break. It had taken a lot of trial and error but eventually Dirth had gotten it right.

“Now, if we could get my idiot brother to see as much,” Solas growled, his gray eyes flashing.

Dirth’s lips twitched. His uncle always looked wild and fierce. He’d shaved either side of his head, leaving only a wide stripe of hair down the middle that he kept long and up in a ponytail. A few braids could be seen on either side of the ponytail. His hair was golden brown. Coupled with his pale gaze, he truly looked the part of a white wolf ready for the hunt. 

Or a demon wolf from the darkest nightmares.

“Come, help me prepare breakfast.” Solas strode from the room.

“Coming!” Dirth hurried after his uncle.

“As am I,” Falon raced after him.

Solas grunted. “Not with how burnt you make the food, Falon.”

“Oh, come on! That’s only because Dirth likes it burnt.”

 _Not really_. Burnt food was worse than every other kind. All food was horrible, but the stuff… forget it. Still, if it was Falon who prepared it; then, Dirth would eat it.

“Did you sleep well?” Solas asked as they continued to the room Dirth was in the night before.

“Um.” Dirth nodded.

 _Did I_?

In the end, with the darkness he saw every night, it was hard to tell.

“Hmm.” Solas’s eyes narrowed as they entered the space Dirth had been practicing in last night. “Falon, go get wood for the fire.”

“What? No way.”

“Now, Falon.”

“Fine.” Falon’s warm hand fell over Dirth’s shoulder. “I’ll be back in a blink of the eye.”

“Okay,” Dirth mumbled.

Falon raced off.

“Are you any good?” Solas asked as he knelt by the remnants of last night’s fire.

“What?”

“There are fresh marks on the wall.” Solas tilted his head towards the wall where Dirth practice with the skinning knife. “I presume you snuck out again to practice with the skinning knife.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“I’m getting there. Hopefully our next operation against the Shadow Ones I’ll be ready to play more than decoy.”

“Good, you’ll need it.”

“I will?”

Solas gestured for Dirth to help with the fire.

Dirth knelt down. _I should have been helping from the start_.

“Nan plans on sending out alone this time.”

Heat fled Dirth.

No.

That meant Falon wouldn’t be going with him.

“I’ll be warning Falon as the operation starts, but it might be too late to help by then.”

Dirth nodded. The charcoal shook in his hand.

“I’ll head with Falon to get to you, Dirth, you have my word.”

Dirth swallowed. “If,” he stumbled, word catching in his dry throat, “if it is of use to the family, I’ll do it.”

“Dirth.”

Dirth’s lips twitched. He took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I’ll be fine, Uncle Solas.”


End file.
